


Midnight Mischief

by Starless_Void



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Fenrir!Jason, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Witch!Dick, could be read as platonic or romantic, jaydick, not really shippy, werewolf!Jaosn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starless_Void/pseuds/Starless_Void
Summary: My late addition to the Halloween-inspired fics. I saw strialternatives' work with Fenrir!Jason and nearly lost my mind with the idea. This could have gone so many ways, and it did, I ended up deleting the whole thing at one point and starting over with a completely different idea. Hope y'all enjoy!
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 92





	Midnight Mischief

Dick has a love-hate relationship with Halloween. On the one hand, it’s magical and fun, and dressing up in an alter ego and going out for the night is considered normal. On the other hand, it kind of reminds him of how fucked up his life is every other day of the year.  
He still hasn’t decided how he feels about the super skimpy Nightwing costume in the window of this Spirit Halloween in downtown Gotham. He has been staring at it for a solid five minutes, weighing the pros and cons of buying it.  
Pro, the Titans would find it hilarious. Con, His family would likely not. Pro, he would look smoking hot, even more so than usual. Con, he was currently single, and looking good for just himself is getting old real fast.  
Dick sighs, his breath a visible cloud of air in the chilly Gotham afternoon. He trudges into the store, ready to see what other, family appropriate, costumes they offer. He already went as a hotdog when he was seventeen, making the connection between weenie and dick. Wally especially loved that one, while Bruce refused to look him in the eye the following week.  
Ah, memories. He could go with the cliché sexy cop costume, but he did that two years ago, and he wants to try something new.  
Dick skims the shelves, eyes falling on a cheap red and black cape with a high collar, giving him some unpleasant flashbacks to his first Nightwing costume. An idea begins to form in his mind, a smile pulling at his lips.  
He plucks the article off the shelf and gathers the other needed supplies, excitement growing by the minute. He was at his wits end until now, only a few hours to go before he needs to be suited up, in anything but his vigilante outfit, and ready to rub elbows with the snobs of the high society.  
Brucie Wayne’s Halloween parties are famous throughout Gotham. Held every Halloween for the last fifteen years, the party consisted of an outside garden-style picnic and a secondary, ‘secret’ party for the rich and famous of Gotham.  
Anybody is allowed to attend the garden party, and free drinks and snacks are provided. To get into the more exclusive party, you need an invitation. Bruce hates the need for such a thing, but half the rich and wealthy wouldn’t show if not for the exclusiveness.  
The party is a necessary event, one formulated by Bruce in an effort to get as many adults and older teens off the streets for Halloween as possible, so families could trick-or-treat in relative peace.  
Of course, not all the troublemakers end up at the party, so this year Cass and Steph won the draw of who gets to patrol. There are only ever a few minor drunken fights, or things like that, so the bats that patrol usually just walk the streets and take pictures with excited little children.  
Dick was only allowed to patrol on Halloween one year, when Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne, twisted his ankle a few days before the holiday, excusing him from the party. It is one of his most cherished memories.  
Seeing all the kids dressed as tiny Batman and Robin, Batgirl, and even some other Justice League big hitters like Superman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern really sunk home the fact that what they do every night is making a difference.  
As he pays for the materials, the phone in his pocket starts buzzing, indicating that he got a text. He hands the woman behind the counter a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill and tells her to keep the change, his favorite part of being Bruce’s legal ward being the ability to give out generous tips.  
When he steps back outside into the bitter cold wind, he pulls out his phone. There are a couple missed texts from Bruce, reminding him of the party tonight.  
He almost overslept it one year, and now he cannot live it down.  
There is a text from his building, telling him about a package receival.  
This is odd. Dick doesn’t remember ordering anything. Shrugging to himself, he walks to his car and drives back to his apartment.  
Sure enough, there is a sizable, unmarked cardboard box sitting on his doorstep. After a quick scan reveals no metal, he picks it up and lugs it inside. It feels very light, and Dick almost expects the contents of the box to be nothing.  
Instead he is met with a deep purple witch hat, little stars sewn carefully into the matrix of the fabric, with tiny threads connecting them to create constellations. It’s beautiful, and when Dick puts it on his head, he isn’t even surprised to find that it fits perfectly.  
He turns to look at himself in the mirror, admiring the whimsical look it gives him from all sides.  
He carefully sets the hat down on a clean spot of the table and reaches in to grab the rest of the costume from the package. There are purple tights with a matching shirt, which Dick wastes no time trying on. They are exactly his size and the material is thick enough to be warm and comfortable, but tight enough to show off all his muscles. There is even a window in the front of his shirt to show his manly cleavage. (Though he has yet to find a person who appreciates that term.)  
There are combat styled boots with a small heel, and a white wand made from what looks to be the wood of an ash tree. Its hot, but not slutty. Unconforming to stereotypes while also looking fabulous.  
It’s exactly his style.  
Dick takes a quick, but thorough, shower, and slips into the new clothes, discarding his vampire stuff in the corner of his living room. He adds a bit of light makeup to his face to accent his new costume and grabs the keys off the hook on the wall, ready to head out.  
His hand barely touches the door handle when a loud tapping sound starts up at his kitchen window. He lives on the thirteenth floor of this building, but that does little to deter his family from using the windows instead of the doors.  
Dick gives an exasperated sigh and backtracks to his kitchen, expecting Damian to greet him with some haughty excuse about waking him up or making sure he got the time right. He will humor him, and not call him out on the fact that neither of those things needed to be done in person.  
Instead of a pretentious preteen, Dick finds a raven pecking at the windowpane, a shiny chain grasped in its beak. He blinks, dread shooting through him as he thinks back to middle school, when they made him read Edgar Allen Poe.  
“Not happening!” Dick says, pointing to the raven through the window. “Nope! Not on Halloween!” With that done, Dick walks out the door, making his way to his Porsche parked on the next block over.  
He must admit, he finds himself awfully scared to find the bird from his window now perched on his passenger mirror. It is clear now that the bird has an amulet of sorts hanging from its mouth, and Dick reaches the wand he forgot he was carrying out towards the creature, almost automatically.  
The raven keeps its beady little eyes trained on him as it drops the necklace on the wand, and crows in what Dick would definitely call a victory screech as it flies off in a flurry of ebony wings.  
Dick is left standing awkwardly next to his car with a strange necklace from a freaking bird dangling from a wand, wearing a costume from a mystery donor, and the feeling like he is missing some vital piece of information.  
At closer inspection, the pendant on the necklace is made of a swirling pattern of Celtic Cross-looking shapes, and almost resembles the visage of a wolf. A pretty neat find from a random bird, if he is honest with himself.  
Writing the whole thing off as some strange Halloween phenomenon, Dick drops the chain around his neck and gets in his car, speeding down the road towards Gotham. 

The party is pretty much what you would expect from the eccentric billionaire that lives up on a hill on the far side of the city. The whole affair is more like a carnival, lights flashing everywhere, bright costumes, smiling faces. There are even some kids present for the earlier part of the evening.  
Food vendors are allowed to set up one cart per company in the croquette field, attracting even more people to the festivities. There are skeletons and pumpkins as far as the eye can see, and, with closer inspection, yes, that IS Batcow up on a platform full of hay and oats, painted as a skeleton cow. Damian must have painted her.  
Dick coos at the thought of Damian constructing the stage and carefully painting his pet cow to be a part of the party. The creature seems to be eating up the attention, receiving ample amounts of pets and ear scratches from passing pedestrians.  
There is music filling the air from a live band that Bruce booked for the occasion after Tim recommended them. Apparently, they are a Raven inspired band, and they even managed to earn the seal of approval from the girl herself, who can be seen dancing near the stage in civilian clothing.  
“Grayson!” A familiar voice cuts through the clamor of the people and Dick spins around in time to see Damian himself struggling to reach him through the crowd. The reason for his struggle being the inflatable dinosaur costume that he is currently donning, the oversized head bobbing in front of the boy’s eyes with every step, making it difficult to see.  
Dick moves in for a hug, or, at least tries to, the squishy exterior is difficult to grip. After about fifteen seconds of desperate flailing, Dick gives up on the hug, arms falling to his sides and mouth turning down into a pout.  
Damian smirks, the evil effect he is probably going for ruined by the cartoon dinosaur head that nearly blocks the kid’s face from view. “Looks like I owe Drake fifty bucks after all. This apparel is apparently Grayson proof!” The little goblin gloats, nearly dancing on his feet.  
“No, Dami! You bet on me? And you love my hugs, why would you want to prevent them?” The blush on his cheeks is harder to make out in the dark, but Dick has a trained eye for these types of things.  
Damian lets out a signature ‘-tch’ sound and stutters out something about his hugs reminding him of the time he had to wrestle a giant squid, but Dick’s attention is drawn to the patio, where Tim is waving at him.  
Dick says a hurried goodbye to Damian, who is swarmed by older ladies the second Dick leaves his side, and Dick makes a show of taking pictures of them pinching his cheeks, telling him how cute he looks, even though the boy has a murderous face on.  
By the time he makes it to Tim, Damian is lost in the crowd, but Dick isn’t worried, the boy is a trained assassin after all, he can survive a few old ladies. Dick turns his attention to Tim, who is dressed in a traditional vampire ensemble.  
Tim looks his outfit over with a raised eyebrow, and Dick sighs. “So, it wasn’t you who left this at my door?” Tim makes a confused face, but Dick brushes the comment aside. “Well, how are things going for the members of the high society?” He asks instead.  
Tim shakes his head, running his fingers through his slicked-back hair. “About as well as you would expect, I suppose. At least Jason hasn’t shown up yet. His arrival is always a bit… harrowing for the older generation.”  
Dick lets out a laugh at that, recalling the looks of horror on all the stuck up rich people’s faces when a crazy realistic zombie dragged himself through the ballroom, spitting up fake blood on as many people as he could before he let security drag him out. He swears, Bruce had an eye twitch for days after the party because of him.  
“Yeah, that was pretty funny.” Dick chuckles, looking out at the crowd of people as Tim sighs in disapproval. “No, it really wasn’t. Three people fainted, and about a hundred of them threatened to file lawsuits against the Wayne family for destruction of property.” He drones on, unaware of the fact that he lost Dick’s attention completely. “He wouldn’t even do stuff like that if you didn’t encourage him all the time! He only does it to curry favor with you- are you even listening?”  
Dick hums at the upturn in Tim’s voice, aware that he has been asked a question, yet unaware of what it is. Tim lets out another sigh, this one loud and drawn out, clearly overdramatized. “Bruce wanted me to tell you that you are in charge of Jason tonight, and you are responsible for whatever he does tonight, got it?”  
Dick blinks, his head spinning around so fast his vision takes a moment longer to focus. “What?! That’s not fair!” Tim levels him with a signature Bat-Stare™, and Dick wilts, forgetting just how similar the teen is to Bruce.  
After some more talk about the schematics of the party, Tim returns to the exclusive party, leaving Dick to find and neutralize Jason before any damage, figuratively and literally, can be done.  
As usual, nearly everybody he talks to compliments his outfit, and he takes so many selfies with so many people that he loses count. After walking past the koi pond for the third time, Dick sees an unnatural rustle in the bushes.  
Gotcha.  
Dick doesn’t think before he lunges into the bushes and manages to get a handful of literal mischief. There is a loud ‘caw!’ and a whole lot of flapping wings, but Dick eventually manages to wrestle the bird into some kind of avian head lock.  
Well, not the troublemaker he was gunning for, but not a total loss either. “Who do you work for?” Dick hisses at the bird, giving it a little shake for emphasis. The people near him throw him some worried glances, but move along, not wanting anything to do with the psychotic break of the eldest Wayne boy.  
The bird doesn’t answer, and Dick begins to question his own mental state when the thing looks him dead in the eyes but stays otherwise quiet.  
“Fine, keep your secrets.” Dick releases the bird, and it flies off about five yards before circling back and landing on a ledge about two feet away from him.  
Dick just stares at it, expression deadpan. “You’re joking.” He says to the bird, who just cocks its head to the side. “Why can’t you leave me alone? Do you want your necklace back? Here! Take it!”  
Dick grips the chain around his neck and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the bird. At least, he thinks he does. The chain never actually leaves his hand. Dick makes a surprised sound, and tries again, to no avail. Every time he goes to throw it, it’s like his hand disobeys him and grabs it at the last second, as if his body won’t allow him to get rid of it.  
With a final desperate flail, the pendant goes soaring into the air, and lands in the brush across the little pond, and Dick just barely hears a muffled grunt.  
“What the- ow!” Dick looks at the bush suspiciously, which seems to tremble with life as a figure rises out of it. “Alright, who the FUCK threw this?!” Dick can feel his eyes go wide as Jason Todd, the very person Dick has been trying to find all night, emerges from the undergrowth, covered in twigs and leaves, an unholy fury behind his eyes.  
The man is dressed as a werewolf, a ripped white shirt lined with fake brown fur, a pair of adorable fluffy ears, and a bushy brown tail that seems to move on its own. A pair of tight fitted working jeans completes the outfit, and Dick has to physically tear his eyes away from the tightness of the material over the man’s thighs.  
Jason turns his gaze to Dick, and some of that fire dies. “Dickie? What are you wearing?” He asks, and Dick can feel his cheeks heat up as Jason blatantly stares at the window in the front of his shirt.  
Dick stands up fully, and crosses his arms, pushing his pecs together more fully, causing Jason to flush and look away. Dick smirks, they are such children sometimes. “Do you like it?” Dick asks needlessly, giving a twirl.  
“I put a spell on youuuuu~” He sing-songs at Jason who is apparently shocked speechless, still taking in his outfit. Dick tests his luck even further by trying to boop Jason on the nose with the wand.  
By some stroke of luck, he manages it, and he isn’t even able to celebrate his small and meaningless victory before a bright light flashes over the man, blinding Dick temporarily.  
When his vision returns a few moments later, Dick is standing eye to eye with the biggest dog he has ever seen, more reminiscent of a wall of russet fur than an actual animal. “Bah!” Dick screams eloquently, falling backwards on his ass.  
The dog looks around, as if it is trying to find out what spooked him. Dick pinpoints the moment when it catches a glimpse of its own reflection in the water, big blue eyes widening almost comically. “What- Dick you- how?” The dog sputters in surprise.  
“Jason?!” Dick chokes out, getting back on his feet. Now that he is getting a good look at the thing, Jason apparently, he realizes that he isn’t a dog, but a giant wolf.  
Jason tries to walk in his new form, tripping over his paws, which are the size of freaking melons, and at any other time, Dick would be laughing at the sight of wolf Jason trying to figure out how to walk on four legs. Right now, though, he is more worried about people seeing him, so he ushers Jason towards the manor, more specifically, towards the sunroom, where there is a large pair of sliding glass doors that will allow newly-turned-giant-wolf-Jason enter through without causing much damage.  
Jason figures out how to avoid tripping over his new limbs and doesn’t fight Dick’s incessant nudging to get him to move. “I’m going, jeez.” He mutters, and for such a large body, he barely makes any sound beside the crunching of leaves beneath his paws.  
Surprisingly enough, they manage to make it inside the manor without being seen. By civilians, that is. Damian most definitely sees them, given how he is perched on the overhang over the door they enter, still wearing that ridiculous dinosaur outfit.  
Jason literally barks out a laugh, and the little brat nearly falls off the roof when he adds, “Nice costume, D. How much did Timbers pay you to wear it?”  
Damian, trained assassin that he is, regains his position on the ledge and makes his way down to the ground, slowly. “Todd?! What manor of sorcery-” He stops himself, looking at Dick with a newfound suspicion.  
“You did this, didn’t you? I can tell from your body language that you are anguishing over this. How?” Dick sighs heavily and flops down onto a couch, exhausted even though it isn’t even midnight.  
“Oof!” Jason flops down practically on top of him and knocks the wind out of him. Damian is yelling something about suffocating and Dick is about to intervene, but when he goes to speak, he gets a mouthful of fur.  
His hands flail a bit, settling on some part of Jason’s flank, and he is so surprised at how soft and silky he feels that he can’t help from petting it a little bit.  
Jason goes silent as Dick combs his fingers through the strands, and nearly jumps out of his skin when the lamp on the next table over crashes to the ground, shattering. Dick peers over Jason’s gigantic body and is just able to see the wagging tail that caused the disaster.  
Dick is actively grinning now, using both his hands to pet Jason’s new fur. “Do you like that, Jay? Who’s a good boy?” Jason is about to snap his teeth at Dick before Dick responds to his own dumb question. “You are! You’re a good boy, Jason!”  
The validation from his first role model should NOT make him happy. Especially given the circumstances. Unfortunately, his tail is an entity of its own, and starts wagging even harder, even as he stutters to deny how much he likes it.  
The real salt in the wound is Damian, who is taking in the whole scene with mirth dancing in his eyes, camera out and snapping photo after photo for blackmail. Damn him.  
Jason manages to put even more of his weight on top of Dick in retaliation, and Damian chooses that moment to approach, petting Jason’s exposed tummy. Little hands manage to home in that one fucking spot immediately, and Jason can’t stop his reaction, one of his back legs starting to move.  
Jason is about to die from embarrassment, Damian’s magic scratches from heaven and Dick’s sweet nothings about him being a good boy overwhelming him. He is kind of glad he is a wolf, because if he was human his face would be on fire.  
If life wasn’t already difficult enough, Tim rushes through the door, saying something about abandoning responsibilities before he goes silent at the scene before him. Neither Damian nor Dick let up from their duel assault, and Jason can’t even say anything before Tim is right up in his space, fingers massaging the muscles behind his ears, and he can’t take it anymore.  
He melts, letting the three dorks work their magic, receiving the best goddamned massage a giant man-turned-giant-wolf could ask for. For once in his life, he lets go, lets himself be taken care of by others.  
His tongue lolls out of the side of his mouth and his eyes fall closed. He can hear the snap of a camera, probably Damian again, but the hands never leave him so who knows.  
Just as he is on the cusp of sleep, a throat clears in the room, making everyone freeze. Like breaking out of a trance, Jason is freed, squirming out of the grasp of his captors and slinking to the corner of the room, as far away from Bruce as possible.  
The man himself has his arms crossed over his chest, face as unreadable as ever. “Boys.” He always did have a knack for souring the mood in a room.  
Jason fights from flinching when Bruce turns his cool and calculated gaze to him, but he can’t fight biology, so his hackles are raised, and his lips are snarling as Bruce takes a step towards him. He stops at the low growl Jason manages to emit from deep in his chest.  
“Dick,” Bruce calls out to his eldest, never peeling his eyes away from Jason. “What is this?”  
Dick bounces up behind Bruce, his cleavage on clear display, and Jason gets some satisfaction from the ashen hue Bruce takes at the sight. “He is my new pet!” Dick lies through his teeth, and Bruce leans his head down to massage the bridge of his nose.  
There is a long tense moment before Bruce speaks again. “Dick, that is a major Nordic deity, Fenrir. There has been a rash amount of summoning this past month from some rogue mage focused on recreating Ragnarök.” He pauses, brow furrowed. “How have you not been attacked?”  
Tim and Damian are whispering quietly in the corner of the room, and Tim lets out a loud gasp that draws everyone’s attention, save for Bruce, who is acting like if he lets Jason out of his sight that he would attack. Which, to be fair, he was thinking about it.  
Dick clears his throat, stepping between Bruce and Jason, as if anticipating the track Jason’s thoughts were taking. “Well, uh. That would have been nice to know. I wouldn’t have accepted this outfit if I knew some mage was wreaking havoc.” Bruce opens his mouth, likely to reprimand Dick for not being more careful, but Dick plows on.  
“That is actually Jason. I ran into him outside, and it turns out he got a strange outfit too, and I was messing with him when I hit him with this wand-” Bruce holds up a hand, and Dick goes silent.  
There is yet another beat of uncomfortable silence, something this family seems to create quite a lot of, before Damian, of all people, speaks up. “This is the truth Father. He speaks with Jason’s voice.” Tim must be feeling some kind of whiplash, his head swinging from Damian to Jason and back to Damian.  
“Well, it’s not like I asked to be turned into Fenrir or whatever. When Dick threw that amulet at me-” Bruce cuts Jason off with his hand, and he nearly bites it off. “Where is the amulet now?” He asks, and Jason closes his jaws with a snap, not realizing just how close he came to biting off Bruce’s hand just now.  
Jason blinks, sitting down on his haunches. “I was holding it when Dick hit me with his toy, I must have dropped it in the garden, near the koi pond.” He concludes, and Tim and Damian race out the door, most likely to compete over who can find it first.  
Dorks.  
Bruce lets out a world-weary sigh, and situates himself in an armchair across the room, the distance causing Jason to relax a bit. “You are familiar with Norse mythology, yes?” Bruce asks needlessly, both Jason and Dick nodding. “Ragnarök, when Odin falls to Fenrir, and Hel rises up and brings the dead with her.”  
Dick walks over to Jason, and resumes petting his back, situating himself on the end of a couch to do so. “We know, Bruce. What details do you have on the mage?”  
Bruce tells them about how he was easily able to track the mage down and disable them, but there were still a couple artifacts missing, and they each have the power to summon one of the Norse deities, to an extent. “Because of the nature of the magic, a host is needed to house the power, and because of the near nonexistent belief in the Gods, the beings themselves were less than powerful, the hosts able to easily wrestle the power from the beings for themselves.”  
Jason doesn’t care about all this. “That’s nice, but how do I reverse it?” He asks, annoyance clear in his tone. Bruce doesn’t react, plowing on with his story. “Each artifact has been gathered by Damian and I personally, and the only way to set the Deity free is to destroy the object imprisoning them here.” He finishes, and Jason relaxes.  
Tim zips through the doorway, Damian hot on his heels. “Drake! Aren’t you needed at the party or something?” So, Tim must have found it first, and now Damian is pouting about it. Typical.  
Tim gives the item to Bruce, and the man stands, walking towards Jason. He begins to snarl again, but Dick’s calming touch keeps him grounded as Bruce crouches in front of him and begins to chant some bullshit spell or whatever, and the pendant on the necklace begins to glow with the same light that enveloped him when Dick started this mess.  
There is a bright flash, and when everyone blinks away the spots from their eyes, Jason is back to human form.  
Mostly.  
Dick winces and Tim looks down as Damian does his signature tut. That can’t be good.  
Nobody can meet his eyes, save for Bruce. “What is it. Tell me straight up.” He has had enough bullshit for one night.  
“Well, Chum,” Bruce uses his old nickname for him, and his heart sinks. “There are some lingering side effects that need time to fade from your system after housing a god in your body.” Bruce stands up stiffly and finds a small mirror for Jason, who holds it up to his face hesitantly.  
Two brown ears stand up from his hair, and Jason reaches a hand up to feel the side of his head, cold filling his veins at the feeling of smooth skin where human ears should be.  
Something moves behind him, and he isn’t even surprised to find himself sporting a bushy tail, the appendage thrashing on its own violation, expressing his current anger and frustration, even as he tries his hardest to get it to be still.  
“It’s only the first twenty-four hours, Jason.” Bruce attempts to console him.  
Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel much better.  
Dick reaches a hand out, lighting quick, and Jason can’t dodge in time. His hands caress the soft fur of his ears, and Jason lets out a whimper at the feeling. Dick coos at his spreading blush, and Damian takes another photo, damn him.  
Tim and Bruce are already on their way out the door, after all, the biggest party of the season is still going on and it needs a host. Damian snaps a few more photos, before he too leaves.  
Dick hadn’t stopped petting his ears this whole time, and his stupid tail keeps thumping audibly on the floor, betraying his feelings about the action. Dick doesn’t say a word, even as they get up and move to a more private room, which turns out to be some guest room in an unused wing of the manor.  
In all honesty, Dick is afraid to say anything, doesn’t want to break the moment he seems to be sharing with Jason, knows that the moment he says anything, Jason will bolt. As it is, the man is fidgety and blushing hard, sitting at the edge of the guest bed, and he refuses to make eye contact.  
Dick knows that Jason led him to a bedroom because of the lack of cameras that Bruce and the others were undoubtably using on them. But still, having Jason grab his hand and lead him to a bed while blushing so hard that he probably feels lightheaded-  
It makes his stomach flip a little.  
Jason has yet to relinquish his hand, not that Dick cares, and his adorable tail is wagging slowly on the covers. It almost hurts Dick to hold back his coos and teasing remarks, but he knows Jason just needs one reason to bolt, and Dick doesn’t want him to go yet.  
Reaching a hand back to Jason’s ears, Dick asks, “So what was the plan for tonight’s party? I was expecting a lot, it’s going to be tough to top the blood drool thing.”  
Jason relaxes, the petting and obvious avoidance of his current situation putting him at ease. “Actually, Alfred really laid into me after last year’s debacle, so I was just planning on running around and growling and just doing werewolf stuff this year. Sorry to disappoint.”  
Dick moved closer, so that now their legs were pressed against each other’s. “Shame. Tim was laying into me earlier for encouraging your shenanigans.” Jason lets out a snort, leaning into Dick so that their shoulders were touching, his frame almost dwarfing Dick’s.  
Dick lays his head on Jason’s shoulder, smiling to himself as Jason rests his own on Dick’s. “Yeah, sounds like something he would say.” Dick hums in agreement, never slowing his rhythmic ear pets.  
Dick could live forever in this moment, the faint noises of the party floating in through the window accompanying the telltale thumping of Jason’s tail on the comforter. No doubt the man would leave soon, making up some excuse about a mission, or plans with Roy.  
But Dick hopes he will stay, if not only because he selfishly want’s to have some time alone with his little wing.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, those pictures ended up framed in the cave, and no matter how many times Jason takes them down, someone always puts them back up before the next day.


End file.
